


Quiet Ones are harder to Please

by MaskedBlackQuill



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Foot Fetish, Foreplay, Grinding, Groping, Lingerie, Love Bites, Mutual Pining, Post-Hogwarts, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Stripping, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:21:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28136079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaskedBlackQuill/pseuds/MaskedBlackQuill
Summary: Neville Longbottom and Pansy Parkinson are going back to Hogwarts to pursue their apprenticeship programs. After the war, a lot has happened around them, making them gravitate towards each other. Afraid of the scrutiny of the emerging new world, they hadn't acted on their sinful cravings. Now, with the Hogsmeade Station, just half an hour away, Parkinson dares to break the ice by letting her foot dig into Neville's aching cuffs. Little does the Slytherin witch know about the ever-growing hunger of a quiet lion.
Relationships: Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	Quiet Ones are harder to Please

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gcgraywriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gcgraywriter/gifts).



Disclaimer: JKR's characters are just roleplaying in my fics for the time being. TannaraMoonvale lent me her beta eyes.

* * *

**Quiet Ones are Harder to Please**

Having slept next to nothing, Neville Longbottom huffed a long sigh and watched his breath fog over the glass. The window was shut; the weather still brutal and the compartment lights flickered as Hogwarts Express continued to rattle its way through the Scottish countryside. 

With Voldemort finally defeated two years back, much had changed. 

Running his fingers through his hair, he sighed once again and muttered under his breath, “How little the morons working at the Prophet knew and how little we could speak about it to the healers and ministry officials...the only ones who could come close to realizing what we went through were either rotting in their graves or had disappeared from Magical Britain altogether.”

He studied his reflection on the glass and caught her as she stared at him. Pansy Parkinson, the Slytherin witch, was returning to Hogwarts to pursue an apprenticeship in Charms. As expected, he was going back to pursue a Herbology apprenticeship under the guidance of Professor Sprout. 

He looked at her reflection. Dressed in formal robes, Parkinson looked more like a working woman than a socialite. For the last two years, they had played this silly game, ignored yet acknowledged. Watched but never greeted. 

He stretched his legs in an effort to ease the tension. Instantly, her stocking clad foot pressed over his cuff and kneaded the muscles through the trousers.

He sighed in relief while she bit her lips and continued reading the Advanced Charms textbook. As her foot climbed upwards, he opened his legs wider in mock invitation. Her reflection grew alluring as her cheeks flushed and her lips curled at the edges. She had long since given up reading. Her eyes continued to hover over the book, not seeing the words. 

He parted his lips and dragged his tongue over them. Parkinson’s eyes dropped to his lips or rather to the reflection of them and then she blushed. Her toe twitched. When she shifted on her seat, her book slipped to her lap. The witch pulled her foot away but the Gryffindor grabbed it and placed it flush against his crotch. With his other hand, he picked up the charms textbook off her lap and marvelled at the sight she made.

Her blouse was undone and her ample chest flushed under the flickering light, the Gryffindor red lacy edge of her bra peeked from under the edges. As she leaned forward, she gripped the seat when he pulled her foot once again letting out a savage growl.

Her dark eyes studied his face; hardened jaw, tight eyebrows, flared nostrils and molten amber eyes that burned with lust. She thought she had nearly won when he pushed her foot off him unceremoniously. Her eyes flushed while she gritted her teeth and spat, “How dare you?”

“Put yourself together, Parkinson. You wouldn’t wish the students to see you in such a state. Also, you’re not really my type,” As he righted the lapels of his robes and dusted his trousers off, Longbottom got up and turned to get his trunk from the overhead rack.

Pansy hissed behind his back, “In your wet dreams, perhaps, Longbottom. You’re not man enough!” the witch mirrored his movements, determined to get into her Hogwarts issued apprentice robes. Within thirty minutes, the train would reach Hogsmeade station and they would all hear Hagrid, the lovable half-giant, as he called for the first years. 

Those biting words made him turn. The witch had turned as well. A foot shorter, she faced him; her chin jutted upwards, eyes ablaze in anger and cheeks flushed. Her blouse, now rebuttoned, hung around her frame. She didn’t cover herself like most girls would; when around him, she hadn’t acted like most girls. She knew the subtle ways to crawl under his skin and leave burned footprints over his veins.

In the recesses of his befuddled mind, Longbottom knew he was already making love to this enticing witch; he didn’t even look away this time. Throughout their seventh and eighth years, he had done enough of that. This time he wanted her to squirm under his gaze. He wanted her to be acutely aware of his thoughts without spelling them out word for word. 

He could feel his pulse quicken as waves of sensual thoughts filled up the barren-scapes of his starved imagination. 

Pansy Parkinson’s classically cut, long, straight black hair flowed down until it kissed her shoulders. To the world, her hair made her look innocent but for Neville, the strands were serpents he wanted to twist his fists around and take her from behind. 

Her dark green eyes could undress him even in crowded places. In the Great Hall from across the long tables, in the fuming Potions classes through the haze that rose from the bubbling cauldrons, over the foliage of freshly potted mandrakes; her eyes could turn him on in seconds, making him desperate. There were days in the library during the eighth year when she had spent an entire period staring at his lap, which made him strain until he ached. She had dragged her lustrous tongue over her supple lips that made him want her to kiss him down there. 

It was his time to torture her and she accommodated all too well. As she threw a powerful locking and silencing spell at the door, she stripped until she was standing only her under things. The red lingerie glowed triumphantly against her pale skin. 

He fisted his hands at his sides and he checked her out again. He allowed his eyes savour her heaving breasts languidly, until he was certain his eyes had made her nipples harden and strain against the coarse material. 

“Like what you see Longbottom?” she crooned.

He swallowed discreetly and replied with bored interest, a mannerism he had picked up from her, “Nothing to see here, Parkinson. Clinically speaking, your body doesn't react the way it should.”

He watched her blush turn a darker shade of red that travelled down her cleavage, her soft belly rippled as she drew a shuddered breath. Her heady scent whirled around the damp compartment until it caressed his nose and frolicked along his taste buds. Inwardly, he groaned ‘yes’, as his balls tightened and his erection grew harder.

Her lips quivered. Holding onto the last bit of dwindling composure she sneered, “Sadly, Longbottom you still remain a fumbling boy...while Draco...,” then turned to gather her clothes, never in her life had she felt so humiliated. After months of being subjected to his sensual gaze, having imagined his lips as they danced over her bare skin, having wanted him to fill her up to the brim; it was only natural that she sought him out. She had seen it in his eyes; he wanted her in the way she dreamt during long sleepless nights.

She heard the thump of a boot behind her then the tell-tale sound of a zipper as it was lowered. Strong arms snaked around her slender waist and a thick palm grabbed her mound, squeezing at her core possessively. Forcing her hand to let go of her clothes, Longbottom twisted it behind her back until her palms pressed against his throbbing member separated only by a thin layer of silk. 

His lips suckled at her ear shell and drew a low mewl out of her as she arched against him, then moulded herself into his long frame. Her other hand circled around his neck; she guided him closer which forced him to cover her most snugly. 

His seductive breath tickled her skin as he whispered hoarsely, “Your body doesn’t react the way it should Parkinson…not until I permit my eyes to feast on you,” rolling her clit through the soaked red material, he nipped her neck and sighed against the fresh love bite, “You don’t drip or grind so wantonly unless I order my fingers to tease you so shamelessly,” he threw her forward, then ground his hips against her backside and pressed himself between her cheeks, desperate to be as close as possible. She grabbed onto the headboard in time to save herself from falling face first into it.

When his fingers twisted around her hair and pulled her back, she turned her face and lurched back to capture his waiting lips. As he sucked at her tongue, he continued to push into her, sending the message loud and clear, lions habitually feasted until there was nothing left.

When he tore his lips from hers, he warned, “I am **_not_** Draco fucking Malfoy. I don’t share, I don’t double-cross and you will not have my heart...do you understand? Not until you have won my trust.”

She didn’t reply right away. He turned her until she faced him once again. He towered over her heaving body, “Do you understand?” he demanded in quiet fury as he grabbed her face with his rough hands.

She leaned forward, until her lips touched his weeping dick and kissed it tenderly from over his emerald silk underwear. His hips swayed and a hand gently cupped the nape of her neck. She sighed and then gasped as his musk invaded her senses, Amortentia and a garden of exotic herbs. She would relinquish all her earthly possessions just to own the right to touch him like this for the rest of her life.

Feeling him grow in between her lips, she whispered, forcing her words to vibrate and make him sigh in ecstasy, “I already know, the Quiet Ones are harder to please.”


End file.
